The Safeword is 'Papa' (ch.6)
#6 of The Safeword is 'Papa'
Down a flight of worn stairs, the floorplan opened onto an egg-shaped dome seemingly carved into the very bedrock. The ceiling rose to a rounded point almost four stories above us. At the center of the limestone egg where the yolk might have been was an ancient-looking tree, it's branches sagging beneath untrimmed boughs. How it survived down here on paper lanterns and no natural sun, I had no idea. Tables were strewn about beneath it's scrawling branches, candles flickering along their lacquered surfaces, casting a warm, dim light. It was a dark, bustling affair, densely populated by rich-looking diners and even richer smells.
"Right this way."
We were seated opposite each other at a low table with two ottomans for seats. A waitress came and took our drink orders. Once she was gone, I surveyed the room with amazement. I leaned across the table's lacquered surface and hissed, "Nick! Where the hell are we?"
"Dandelion Curry House," Nick hissed back. "Why are we whispering?"
"How the hell did you even find this place?"
Nick grinned. "Oh. Let's just say this used to be a bar. The kind with a lot of brass poles, if'n you catch my meaning."
"This place looks expensive as shit! How the hell can you possibly afford..."
Then it occurred to me. Nick wiggled his eyebrows, sticking out the tip of his tongue.
"Ohhh," I glared at him, the corner of my eye twitching. "You bitch."
Nick chuckled. "Oh c'mon... we're gonna have a good time. Besides, what were you going to do with that money anyways? Buy more energy drinks and cigarettes?"
I bit down hard on my lip. This night was going to be a bitch on stilts. I could already tell.
Some time later, I found myself staring out across a smorgasbord of Indian cuisine that couldn't have filled my stomach fast enough, no matter how much of it I scarfed down. There were earthenware bowls piled high with curry of every variety, kebabs, mounds of rice, sheets of naan large enough for me to raft down the Ganges on. FUCK! It felt like I hadn't eaten in days!
Across the table, Nick watched me with his cheek propped up in his hand, a wan smile in the corners of his mouth. "Good?"
I nodded vigorously, swallowing. "Fucking tits, man! I haven't eaten this good since I got out of prison!"
Nick grinned. "Glad you like it." And then I felt his foot pressing against mine. The warm pads of his big toe brushed against my heel, and at first I thought, maybe it had been an accident. Then the rest of his foot followed suit, and before I knew it we were playing footsie beneath the table.
"Nick," I growled in a low voice, nose flushing red. "N-not here."
He rolled his eyes. "We had a deal, Finn. And besides... take a look around you. Notice anything?"
Following his gaze, I surveyed each low-seated table in turn. Sure enough... a lot of the tables... MOST of the tables, in fact... had guys at 'em. As in, just guys. Well-groomed and impeccably dressed. Together.
I shrunk down a little on my ottoman, trying to disappear into my polo's collar. "Nick, where the hell did you take me?"
To this, Nick shrugged, his smug face still propped up in his hands. "Dandelion Curry House caters to mostly men of the queer variety. Y'know. Good food. Tasteful décor. Thursday night is drag night. That whole bit. Figured it'd be nice to get you out of your element a little. Maybe take you somewhere you could relax... let your guard down."
My eyes widened as his hand reached across the table, finding mine and curling around it.
I stared down at his hand, watching his thumb stroke over my tawny fur. My heart fluttered in my chest without my permission.
"Can I get you guys anything?" said the waitress who seemed to have a knack for materializing at the worst possible moment.
It took every screed of my willpower to not jerk my hand away. "Alcohol," I muttered.
"Okay. What kind, sir?"
"Doesn't matter. Just bring two of 'em."
Oh, my head.
I am laying with my cheek pressed to the table, surrounded by dirty dishes and drained tumblers. Everything is double and I'm nauseous. Indian food and fireballs don't really go together, I guess.
From somewhere high above my body, I become aware that I'm chuckling. Nick is telling me a funny story. Something about a leopard in a laundromat trying to get spots out of his clothes. I tried to pretend it wasn't hilarious, but Nick did amazing impersonations. And besides, it had all the hallmarks of a great comedy: irony and playful racism.
It was about midway through his story when I realized something.
He's going to be inside me later.
The thought just entered my head out of nowhere! I'm going to let him fuck me. Just like that! No warning. No preamble. Just... suddenly, the gayest thing I've ever thought.
Leveraging my palms against the table, I hoisted my head up to look at him, squinting into the middle distance to bring his two kaleidoscoping mugs into focus. He halted his story, eyeing me with concern.
He's kind of cute, thought my whiskey-addled brain after some deliberation.
"You okay, big guy?"
Slowly, carefully, I eased off my ottoman, using the edge of the table as a guide as I made my way around to where he was sitting.
"Fin, what the -"
I ignored him as I climbed into his lap. He stared down at me, ears perked up, eyes wide as my claws dug into his shirt, pulling him down.
I kissed him. Not as rough as I'd meant to. Just a deliberate, two-second pressing of the lips. When we broke, I didn't bother gauging his reaction, opting instead to rest my cheek against his chest, purring as I took in his cologne.
"Nick," I sighed after a time. "I think we've overstayed our welcome."
His arm swaddled me, holding me close. He chuckled. "Yeah... guess we have been here for a while."
I nodded into his chest.
"Feel like catching a movie? Or... we could maybe go sit in the park. Let you grab some fresh air."
"Nick... I am full of food and soused to the gills. You smell good. And just a few minutes ago, it finally occurred to me how badly I wanna have sex with you."
I could hear his heartbeat pick up through the soft fabric of his shirt. "So... that's a 'no' to the park then."
I closed my eyes, sighing loudly. "Take me back to my van. You're staying the night."
The tip of his tongue flicked across the tip of my ear, making me shudder. "Oh, I think we can do a little better than that."
And then, to the waitress as she passed, "If I could get that check, please ma'am."